Deliverance
A long, unsettling silence filled the lobby, and Tara found herself bombarded with an ocean of incredulous stares. She offered a nervous smile when the tension failed to wane and shifted uncomfortably, casting a shy glance to the ground. "Was it something I said?"
In minutes, the population of the lobby had nearly doubled. A frustrated Zack Wright had piled inward just seconds following the two vampires with Gunn and Wesley not far behind. While the demon hunter had enjoyed absolutely no success, the other men appeared a little worse for the wear. They related a brief account of finding Drusilla feeding on some co-ed and though they had successfully intervened, the crazed vampiress had averted whatever they threw at her before seemingly leaping into the night without a trace.
Spike had shrugged. "That sounds like Dru. She has about a thousand an' a half tricks up her sleeve that she never shared with me. 'S one of the only ways we got out of Prague not deader than usual."
Whatever had occurred, though, fell short to the relatively unknown guest that stood apprehensively in the heart of the lobby. They had suffered through several excruciating introductions that, naturally, entailed detailing the revelation in Willow's life following Oz's departure. (Everyone decided to ignore Cordelia's observant, "I always knew there was something weird about that girl...aside the witch thing, and all.")
Then Tara had related while she was with them and not in England, and everyone fell to a depressingly deep silence.
"Could you..." Buffy began, hand commanding Spike's in a death grip that she wasn't aware of. It didn't matter; he hardly tried to pull away. "Could you...go over that again?"
The nervous blonde shrugged helplessly. "Th-there's really n-not much to go over," she explained uncertainly. "W-Willow told me how to do it. We w-went over it several times. She even told me how t-to pr-pronounce some of the h-harder words."
"Why now?" Cordelia asked softly. "Why not when this first started? Why not anytime before now?"
"Glory," Tara replied with a weak smile. "We were afraid... oh, she hasn't found us." The Witch cast a quick glance to the Slayer, who relaxed visibly at the reassurance. "B-but if she did, Willow's the one who could w-ward her off. Well, she'd...she'd be better than m-me. S-she's really...she's..." In desperation, she turned to Buffy fully. "She told me I could do this. She said I was...she just said I could do it."
There was nothing but a numb nod. "I know you can. Wills did it before she had any practice."
"Just for clarification," Wright interrupted sharply, "what exactly are we talking about? Considering? Because as of right now, not really liking what I'm hearing."
Spike drew in a tight breath and cast his friend a skeptical glance. "Don' you get it?" he retorted, embitterment flashing within his eyes. "They want Peaches back. An' now Glinda has a way. Innit neat? Got everythin' right worked out, they do."
The edge in his voice drew Buffy's immediate attention, and she pivoted to him with sharp knowledge of his assumption. "Spike—"
"No, no. 'S fine. I mean, who wouldn't want the prat back? He jus' tortured the livin' life outta you. Real keeper, that one. Such a prince. My bloody hero." The peroxide vampire turned away with disgust, his hold on her breaking without forethought. "Oh, but I forgot, 's not really him at all, is it? Really, with all the bloody bouncin' he does, 's no small wonder I get myself all turned around. I mean—"
"You're not really considering this, are you?" Wright demanded, glancing sharply to Buffy.
And at that, there was no means to reply. Nothing but a slackjawed façade of unquestionable confusion. "I...I..." She looked helplessly at Spike, her heart breaking at the expression firing his beautifully agonized features. "I..."
"Angel is our friend," Wesley offered softly.
"Was our friend," Gunn added, tone neutral. "Really, after all that's happened, I'm not sure what—"
Cordelia tossed him a sharp glance. "Angel's our friend," she reiterated. "And if there's a way to get him back, we'll take it. Haven't we said this is what we want from the beginning?"
Spike raised his hand with a sardonic smile. "I haven't."
"Neither have I," Wright agreed, face contorted in a contemptuous sneer.
The Seer sighed heavily, shaking her head. "It's not like it's that simple, all right? We're not picking lotto numbers, here. He's our—"
"Friend. Yeah. I get it." Zack cast her a dirty look. "Sorry if I still fail to see where it's not simple. Angelus is a killer. End of story."
"Yeah," Gunn agreed, nodding rhetorically. "And, last time I checked, so's that myelin-deprived whitey." He clinched the thought with a broad gesture to Spike, whose brows arched appraisingly. "As a matter of fact, that one doesn't have a soul. Hell, he doesn't even have a chip anymore."
Buffy blinked, turning to him with wide eyes. "You don't?"
"No," he growled. "I don'. Lindsey an' the wankers at Wolfram an' Hart took it out when I was actin' like the Order's bitch. Couldn't rightly hunt with a bug-zapper in my noggin, now could I?" His gaze implored hers hotly for several long seconds, the look on her face hardly passing for encouraging. When she failed to summon words in retaliation, he bristled and turned away. "Bloody typical."
The blank expression clouding Tara's features hardly rang as heartening, either. She took an exaggerated step away, nibbling on her lip in astonished concern. "Y-you...your ch-chip is out?"
Spike favored her with a particularly menacing glare. He had always had a soft spot for the Witch but such fell to the wayside of consideration if she actually thought he was a danger anymore. He should have been, of course. There was no true reason to believe he wasn't except for the guarantee of good faith that he had tacitly undertaken since leaving everything behind to rescue the Slayer. "Yeh, 's out," he retorted bitterly. "'m free to be a bad boy. Reign as much pain an' terror as I bloody well choose. William the Bloody, back in action. Hey, I got an idea. Want a number of how many blokes I've killed since it was yanked? Zero. Oh, an' even better. Want a number of how many blokes I plan to? You'll never guess this. Zero. Where's the soddin' trust?" He stopped and held up a hand for clarification. "Oh, I forget. I'm a vampire. What else do you want?"
"That doesn't change anything," Buffy remarked softly.
His eyes widened. "I—"
"It changes nothing." Without anything else, she grasped his wrist so that he would turn to her fully. "It's...I told you that I trust you. That I feel safe...and earlier in the alley...I meant that, too. The chip...in all honesty, I'd forgotten about it. And the soulless thing. And everything else. In the end, I guess, you're just you." She smiled weakly. "Everything else is just detail work."
Though it had happened several times in the last two days, Spike felt himself overwhelmed with such a powerful incursion of emotion that he was genuinely surprised the wave didn't knock him to the ground. Every time he looked at her, he suffered the same from the takings of his own revelations. She was amazing. She blew him away. With everything that had happened, everything she had seen, everything she had experienced, she still gazed upon him with love, admiration, and acceptance. Things he had never fathomed receiving from anyone, least of all her. Things no one had given him.
He had given her every reason to walk away, but she was still by his side. And that astounded him.
With a small smile that did little to convey the depth of his feeling, he clasped her hand and offered a choked nod. "Thank you."
It was a weak thing to say, and yet he could offer no more. Not now.
A still moment spread through the lobby.
"Ummm..." Tara mused with a confused frown. "Did I m-miss something? Since when did...Buffy? You and Spike? You're..."
"They're a thing," Gunn explained, shrugging casually. "I take it that's not the norm where you come from. It's cool—I never thought I'd be workin' for a vampire. And here I am."
"Wow," Cordelia remarked appraisingly, regarding the Slayer as though seeing her for the first time. "That was very...unBuffy of you, Buffy."
The observation earned a weak smile. "You'd be surprised what being tortured for weeks can do to your outlook."
She nodded. "Touché."
"Here, here," Gunn added with a grin. "You got some major stones in you, girl. I'm impressed."
The Witch was unsatisfied. Trouble marred her brow, and her eyes were filled with concern. "B-Buffy. Is this b-because of the...of the saving thing? I mean, it's great...what he did...but—"
"It's because of a lot of things," the Slayer replied, studiously avoiding her friend's gaze. At first, Spike thought to balk in insult, but he realized quickly that her reasoning was far from the choices she made, and the revelations she had released about herself. She was squeezing his hand tightly—such that were he anything less than human, she likely would have ground his bones to dust. "A thousand things."
"I don't h-have a problem w-with it." Unlikely. The peroxide vampire knew Tara well enough to know that her stuttering problem only surfaced nowadays when she was uncomfortable or frightened. The present situation had undoubtedly unnerved her, and the showiness behind their relationship—something none of the Scoobies could have been prepared for—likely wasn't helping matters. "I j-just don't know h-h-how the others w-will—"
"Later," Buffy said, still avoiding her eyes. "We'll deal with it later."
"Right now, there are more important things," Wesley agreed. "Like deciding what to do about Angelus."
"I still don't see what's wrong with the old fashioned stake through the heart," Wright muttered contemptuously.
"Back to this again? How many times do I have to say it?" Cordelia rolled her eyes. "He's our friend!"
"He also killed your other friend."
"Who?" Tara demanded with a frown.
"Me," Buffy said softly. "And Cordy and I really aren't friends."
"Gee, thanks Buff. Glad to know you care."
"Well, really—"
"Wait, wait, wait." The Witch held up a hand. "Could you go over that 'he killed me' part again? I really...I-I d-don't get it."
Again, Buffy averted her gaze, but nodded just the same. "I was turned."
"Angel—"
"It wasn' Angel." Spike glanced up with the expected wealth of self-remorse to replace whatever earlier jollity his lady's revelations had granted. The unhappy reality loomed around every corner. His shame was a palpable ripple that touched every part of him that could be touched; spreading throughout the streams of the Hyperion with such force that everyone felt its influence. "It was me."
"No," Wright objected sharply. "It was me."
"You're a vampire?" Tara demanded with a frown.
"No. But I'm responsible."
"It was neither one of you," Wesley confirmed softly. "Tara was right from the beginning. It was Angelus. He killed—"
"Yeh," Spike agreed, notably unmoved. "But I sired."
Zack arched a brow. "I made you sire."
"I have no opinion on this," Gunn observed with a shrug, crossing his arms.
Cordelia nodded her agreement. "Neither do I. Well, I sort've think it's more Angel's fault. After all—"
"What matters is that I don't blame Spike or Zangy—Zack." Buffy frowned. "Sorry."
The demon hunter shrugged. "It's okay. I'm used to it by now."
"That's fine," the Seer returned. "But we still have to—"
"Hey, I got an idea." Wright turned to the group and offered a cynical smile. "Let's put it to a vote. All those in favor of killing Angelus, say aye."
He earned a positive response from Spike and Gunn, the latter of whom answered Wesley and Cordelia's identical looks of inquisition with a shrug. "Doesn't really matter to me," he explained. "I like Angel. I do—"
"All of us have our faults," the peroxide vampire mused.
"—but he warned us that the day might come when he'd have to be taken out. Right? He warned us repeatedly. Hell, he even commended our willingness to do it. If he knew there was a chance of reensouling his ass and he didn't tell us to take it, what makes any of you think he'd want this for himself?"
"Angel's a champion," Cordelia replied. "He deserves to make amends."
Buffy bit her lip unsurely. "Since when?"
"Buffy!"
Her sire looked at her in surprise; hesitant to express the glee those two words brought him.
"The last time Angel went nuts, you and Xander did some heavy lobbying to make sure he bit the literal dust."
"An' suddenly," Spike murmured, "my respect for Harris raises a notch."
Tara shrugged. "He still wants you dead."
"An' 's dropped again."
"A lot has changed," Cordelia was saying, not at all deterred from the side observations that seemed determined to throw her off track. "I work with him now. I understand him. I—"
"God, why don't you marry the guy?" Wright growled.
"What?" the Seer snapped. "Are you seven, or something?"
"I have a small child," he retorted, as though it made a justifiable point. "Therefore, I can act like a small child."
"He does play with Barbies," Spike observed.
Zack whipped back to him in astonishment. "How the hell do you know that?"
"A li'l birdie told me. And, if I may stress, don' say stuff like that around a witch." The peroxide vampire nodded to Tara, who immediately ducked her gaze to avoid the spotlight. "Li'l things like that have a wonky way of comin' true."
Cordelia was staring at the demon hunter incredulously. "You play with Barbies?"
"I have a little girl. Girls like Barbies. You do the math."
"Man," Gunn remarked, shaking his head. "All your cool points have been deducted based on this alone."
"That hurts, Charlie. It really does."
"Everyone, please. There is still much to discuss, and bickering amongst ourselves over Barbies, of all the idiotic things, isn't going to get anything accomplished. We have to consider this from Angel's perspective." Wesley took a dramatic breath, intervening with his calm logic that seemed to drive everyone a little further off the boundary of aggravation. "What he has been through, especially given the affair with Buffy. With how he feels about her, how will he ever forgive himself for—"
"What?" Cordelia spat indignantly. "And we're not even gonna give him the chance? He's a grown up vampire, Wes. He knows that he and Angelus aren't one in the same."
"'E also knows that they're not not one in the bloody same," Spike snarled. "Why don' we take a poll 'ere from someone who—unlike the lot of you—has seen both bloody sides of him back an' front. How about—"
"Oh, and you're not the least bit bias, I suppose?" the Seer demanded.
His eyes widened comically. "'m sorry, I couldn't hear you over your Pro-Angel Party Of One over there."
"Well, I might not have been around for a hundred years, but I don't think we should accredit who knows Angel best based on seniority. Especially from someone who's never liked him."
"Maybe I don' like the wanker because I do know him better than you."
"Or maybe, it's because you're a jealous, self-centered son of a bitch!"
"That's enough," Wright snapped, stepping forward with furious intent. "Honestly, Cordy—"
Her eyes widened incredulously. "Oh, come on. You're willing to play best pal to Mr. Soulless but give a vamp who's on a real mission for good, and that brings out the hunter in you? Puhlease. Spike's killed a whole helluva lot. And—hey—that was him! I'm not judging!" She tossed an incensed glare over Zack's shoulder. "Much. Angel hasn't killed. He's—"
"Wrong, pet."
"What?"
"Your precious bloody Angel has killed." Spike prowled forward darkly. "Durin' the Boxer Rebellion when 'e was crawlin' on his hands an' knees so dear ole Darla would take his sorry arse back to bed. He also told me he once din't stop a local boy from gettin' knocked off 'cause it provided a tasty source of human-flavored blood for him to down. So you see, precious, he's not some bloody saint. Right? Now lay off."
She arched her brows skeptically. "When did he ever tell—"
"Back in SunnyD when he was that soulless wanker firs' time around. An', before you say anythin', he had no reason to lie to me an' Dru, then." The platinum vampire smiled when her skepticism melted away to the deeper understanding of actuality. "An' I'm willin' to bet that he's done in a few of your Wolfram an' Hart lackeys."
"Those guys are from Hell Incorporated," Gunn observed. "They don't count."
"They're human, aren' they?"
"If I may," Wesley said. "Everyone here has brought up valid points—"
"Some more valid than others," Cordelia grumbled.
"—but I believe the only sporting thing to do is leave the decision in Buffy's hands."
With that, all eyes fell on the Slayer.
Buffy blinked nervously, recoiling when she again found herself in the spotlight. "Me?"
There was a beat of consideration. Spike stepped forward and gently caressed her arm, fervor from angered verbosity with the Seer vanishing without hindrance. "You're the one he hurt," he reasoned, though he obviously didn't like it. "The one he...Wes's right. It should be up to you."
As he spoke, the vampire felt something very flagrant clutch his nonbeating heart with the promise of her answer. Her decision, whether she knew it yet or not, combed every inch of her. Her eyes. The way her face fell with the threat of imminence and the knowledge of buried resolution. Angel. It was always Angel. Even after everything that had occurred, she always chose Angel.
Angel had ripped her to shreds, but not enough to save himself from his own salvation.
It was there. Despite recognition, it was there. And even as she voiced her indecision, he felt the boulder of defeat blockade whatever happiness had ever presumed to know him.
As all things, one simple break was too much to ask for.
The shrill of the phone sounded through the near-vacant lobby, startling Buffy out of her reverie. She waited for a minute before rising to her feet to near the front desk and was just rarely beaten out by Wright as he bounded from Wesley's office to snatch up the call with such poise that he could have passed for the genuine article. There weren't many things that she knew about the demon hunter, but given what Cordelia and Spike had related, he was a newcomer to the scene and the speculation remained that he would be on his way once all was said and done.
The way he answered the phone, though, gave her a slightly different opinion.
"Angel Investigations," he drawled, "we let you get away with murder." When he caught her dubious gaze, he mouthed, "Cordy taught me how to answer," then turned his attention back to the caller. "Oh. Right. I see. No, it's all right. You stay there. Trust me, we're not getting anything that could even remotely considered productive done. Yeah. Well, that and Frosty the Snow-Bitch needs someone there when she wakes up. Oh, fuck off; I'll call her that if I want to, all right? Fine. Whatever. Bye."
The angry stomp that clinched the transaction left little to the imagination. Buffy smiled wryly and stepped forward. "Friend of yours?"
"It was Lindsey. He wanted to let us know that Kate's been out of danger for about an hour and her condition is stabilized." A sigh rippled through him. "Though she's sustained enough damage that she might be out for a while."
"Coma?"
"No. Just an 'out for a while' clause."
"Ah." Buffy exerted a deep breath and heaved herself onto the counter, crossing her legs Indian-style while whirling to face him. "You think after she's released that I should suggest we go find Angel? After all, there are people out there dying and whatnot because of him."
He offered a weak grin. "Turnabout's fair play."
"It is at that."
A short, somewhat uncomfortable silence settled between them.
"So," Wright began a minute later. "What are you doing down here? I thought you and Spike..."
"He went to sleep."
The demon hunter frowned. "Isn't it a little early? Hell, I know it's a little early. It's early for me, and I'm human."
"Well, he's probably not really asleep...just pretending to be so he can avoid me. He's upset." Buffy sighed deeply, steepling her hands against her chin with pensive digression. "I can see why."
"Can you?"
"I hurt him today. Earlier. With the yelling and the...I hurt him."
"I hurt Cordy. Going to need to do some groveling before the night is over." He stiffened rigidly. "Even if I'm right."
"You really think so? You think that...you think that we should...?"
The unspoken question needed no elaboration. The hunter had no trouble reading between the lines.
Wright shrugged as if it were of no consequence. "He went through a lot to get you back. I'm guessing killing Angel's the only kind of solace he can accept now that the rest is over with. I get that. I really get that."
"I should hope so. Aside Spike, you were the one rallying the most for Angel's story to have a dusty-ending."
An ironic smile tickled the man's lips. "He's too much like me for his own good."
"Angel?"
"Spike. In my mixed up logic, he's me. He's me, Angel's Darla, and you're the wife I couldn't save. It doesn't work like that, though. I know he's killed people before. I know it. I know he's probably done something so horrible that...that what happened to me doesn't even begin to compare. Well..." He stopped in consideration. "No. I don't think so. Never mind. What I know of Spike...he's too impatient to have taken the time to do what Darla did to me. But he has killed people. He's taken husbands away from wives and mothers away from children. He's separated people for over a century and if you ask him right now, he probably wouldn't be able to feel anything aside surface remorse. I know that. And once upon a time, that would've been enough."
Buffy pursed her lips. "To what?"
"To kill him. That's what I do. I'm a demon hunter."
"It's what I do, too. I'm the Slayer. It's my job."
"What changed for you?"
She offered a small smile. "I was tortured. And reality didn't matter anymore. Titles didn't matter anymore. I wasn't the Slayer then. He wasn't a vampire. He wasn't my enemy. I saw him, and he was there for me, and he was Spike. Just Spike." Her gaze focused intently on some unmoving spot on the floor, expression hardened with a loss of her surroundings. And she was talking. Just talking. Talking to no one in particular. To anyone who would listen. "I thought about him before he was there. Hell, I even had a Slayer dream about him. I think it was...yeah, it had to be."
Wright frowned. "Slayer dream?"
"Prophetic dreams," she explained. "I've had them before. Always come true. And he did. He really came for me. And he was there to save me. He was...it made him real. Spike's always been just...Spike. Before this. But what he did...that made him real. It made him something more. I didn't see him as a vampire anymore." She toughened. "I hadn't seen a real vampire until Angelus. Darla was right about that."
Zack swallowed hard at the mention of his mission's objective, but did his best to remain attuned to her needs. "Spike's become a friend," he said softly. "I don't know how it happened, but he has. I don't...I don't want to see him hurt."
"Neither do I." Buffy glanced at him quizzically until she understood the subtext of meaning, and her eyes went wide. "Oh! Oh, that. I...what I feel for him isn't gratitude. I realized that...well, after Cordy gave me her little inspirational talk. I was worried. Very worried. I wanted it to be real. And it is." A sigh waved through her body and she allowed her head to fall into her hands. "No, Zack. It's real. It's very, very real. So real that it scares me."
He nodded understandingly. "I get that."
"It's just...now..." She shook her head heavily, her eyes clouding with tears that could not be helped. "Now, everything else is real, too."
Wright frowned. "I...?"
"This thing with Angel...Tara showing up. Everything is becoming real. I've been..." He waited obligingly as she gathered her thoughts. "Being here...being with...with Spike like this. With Wes and Cordy and...everyone...it's sort've surreal. And it's been easy to forget that I don't have a life somewhere else. That I have to...go home. And that things will still be there. My house. My sister. Glory. School. Oh god, school. Giles. He's going to be so...disappointed in me—"
"What happened wasn't your fault."
"I'm a vampire!"
The demon hunter tensed. "...that wasn't your fault."
"I know. I know. But it's real. God, it's so real. My life stopped being real the minute I woke up in Lindsey's office, do you get that?" He nodded numbly, but made no move to interrupt. "And since then, I've been hopping from one nonreality to the next. If I go back...and it..."
"Are you afraid things between you and Spike will go back to the way they were?"
Buffy's eyes widened. "No. No! God, no. That can't happen. Ever. I don't care what they think. I would've, once upon a time...but the nonreality changed that. The nonreality changed everything. He's keeping me grounded. He's what kept me from losing my mind when I could've. He saved me, Zack. He—"
"You don't have to convince me, Princess. I was there, remember?"
But the Slayer wasn't convinced. The fear flashing behind her eyes attested to that. "Do you...is that what you think he thinks?"
"Well..."
"Because of the Angel thing?"
"Angel tortured you. I'd want him dead."
"It wasn't—"
"I wouldn't care. He tortured you. Fuck, he killed you. He did things to you that make Spike flinch at the suggestion. And Spike's seen a lot. You don't have to be a demon hunter to suss that out. The guy's got a strong stomach. I don't even wanna begin to know what that bastard put you through." Wright shook his head with conviction. "Do you really think that you can look him in the eye and forgive him for what he did to you, regardless of which face he's wearing? 'Cause despite the mechanics, Buff, it's gonna look the same in hindsight."
A trembling sigh escaped her lips, and she shook her head heavily in the face of newfound uncertainty. For all the world, she remained one lost girl. It was a difficult weight for one so strong to carry. "I don't know what to do."
"Your realities are coming tumbling down." He shrugged. "They're gonna break. You've had your refuge. Everything else is human nature."
"I'm not human."
"Sure you are. Being a vampire doesn't make you anything less." Wright sighed heavily. "And may I just say, bravo me for seeing that. You're a good girl, Buffy. I don't know you that well, but I know that. And if you want help facing your demons, I might suggest holding the hand of someone who's been there."
"I need to talk to him."
"Well, yeah, but I was referring to myself."
A weak smile spread across her face, endless in its poignancy and even more striking in gratitude. "Thank you."
Wright shrugged. "That's what friends of friends are for."
She shrugged. "Logic?"
"Works for me."
Buffy nodded, wiping her eyes to rid herself of the tears she had tried so hard to keep from expressing. He was a good friend—if nothing else, he was a good, loyal friend. She suspected that his good opinion once lost was lost forever. And similarly, once formed outlasted a lifetime. Zachary Wright was a good man. A good, complex man working hard to rid himself of his own demons.
He was a strong ally as well. She liked him. She liked him very much.
"Good luck with Cordy," she said, whirling on the counter to hop back onto the floor.
"Oh," he replied, wide-eyed. "Trust me. I'll need more than luck."
A dry, however understanding chuckle reached her throat. There was certainly no doubting that.
And that was it. The Slayer emitted a long sigh, then turned to head upstairs.
At this point, it was fruitless to force herself to conclusion. With fatigue stretching at every reasonable aspect of her being, she stopped wearily in the doorway of the bedroom she was slowly coming to accept as hers and Spike's. The picture that welcomed her warmed her unbeating heart; her sire, doused in worry-induced exhaustion, was fast asleep. He evidently exhibited enough foresight to remove his shirt before reclining, though he had once more refrained from disrobing his jeans; his thumb was caught in one of the loops, his other hand cast above his head against the pillow. And even though he was lost to the world, she could hear the faint rhythm of the few breaths his body decided to indulge.
A faint smile drew upon her lips.
If nothing else, he was a work of beauty.
And he would likely resent the hell out of her for thinking so.
Buffy made short work of her own attire. While she wasn't sure whether or not she was welcome in his bed after the spectacle downstairs, she reckoned he would have little ground to contest her when she told him what needed to be heard. And even so, nothing that had driven them this far had seen light to objection. He loved her. He had told her so. More importantly, she had felt it beneath her hands. She had read it in his eyes. She had tasted it in his kiss.
This was nothing. This business with Angel.
It was nothing.
Or would soon be nothing. She had to give him that. She had to ease his worry.
She had to adjust herself before making her decision.
A sigh clamored her throat as she climbed into bed. She nuzzled delicately into his side, reveled a bit when an arm instinctively came around her, but enjoyed no success in waking him. Even as his fingers intuitively sought across her skin, as his tongue wet his lips, as he rumbled lightly in eluded content and snuggled into her with more of the same.
Nothing like that to face tonight. All saved for the morrow.
Buffy leaned upward to graze his temple with a kiss before losing herself completely in his embrace. "I love you," she whispered.
The words escaped her with such casualness that she only lent herself pause when she thought of how he would react when they awoke. She had hurt him. She would fix it. Because she loved him.
So this was what love felt like. For the first time, she understood. She felt it and understood.
Wonderful. Terrifying.
She knew. With everything else that remained hidden in the balance, she reached one truth that managed to strike fear into a hardened façade. One truth to lead her through all the others.
She couldn't lose this. Ever.
If she did, she would never recover.
Buffy shuddered and snuggled into him as best she could, but the thought remained with her far after she had fallen asleep.
Forever was a long time to suffer for the misgivings of one mistake.
She had to make it right. Come morning, she would make everything all right.
To be continued in Chapter Forty-One: Silver Satin Wings...